I am Luis Mora’s niece. He was married to my father’s sister, my Aunt Sophie,
who Uncle Luis called Sonia or Sonia-mia. I prefer to remain anonymous
because I am a certain age and my sight is almost gone. For all these years, I
have waited for somebody to take an interest in Uncle Luis’ art. He
reached the top of his field despite many other good painters in his day.
I have
vivid memories of Uncle Luis. He was a bundle of energy. He was cheerful,
witty, and he made us laugh. He had a studio over the garage at our home that
faced the water. He’d paint scenes of people sailing on the bay, and he loved to
paint our family. He painted a portrait of me when I was two years old.
Uncle
Luis was a compassionate man who also used his talents to paint the plight of
poor people. He valued diversity, and painted it often. He hated the Great War
that killed so many men, and he helped the war effort by designing uplifting
posters. Uncle Luis traveled often. He stored his paintings in our home
before 1931, when we all suffered the death of my Aunt Sophie, his wife.
Uncle Luis died when I was sixteen. Our
family tried to do the best for his paintings for Uncle Luis' memory, and for Rosemary's benefit.
She was Uncle Luis' daughter, my first cousin. We weren’t
in the art business. Uncle Luis had his own style. He loved the Old Masters and
melded their techniques into American Impressionism and Realism. After he died, there was an
onslaught of interest in paintings with distorted figures, such as cubism, and
abstract paintings.
Our family
has mostly all died. I don’t feel alone because I am surrounded by memories
from family heirlooms and Uncle Luis' paintings. I am not easy to find, but
Lynne Baron searched for me. I am happy to help her plan an exhibition of Uncle
Luis' art. I’ve stored Luis’ letters and papers all these years for just this
purpose. I am deeply touched that Uncle Luis’ legacy will finally
come alive, thanks to
Lynne. It’s about time.
